


Broken Arrow

by cadkitten



Category: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Happy Ending, M/M, Mental Anguish, Patchjobs, Romance, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7718806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only one person in the entire world that Roy could ever lose himself in again, only one broken arrow he wants to keep forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Arrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TimmyJaybird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/gifts).



> Bet you thought I'd never wind up here, hmm, TimmyJayBird?  
> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "Broken Arrows" by Daughtry

Roy swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, bit back the desire to cry out in agonized pain as he half-fell over the windowsill and spilled onto his living room floor. Sliding down the wall, he shoved the window closed above him and flicked the latch.

Breathing heavily, he began ripping at his costume, Velcro loosening, armor falling away until he got down to his undersuit. A jagged line arced over his ribs, slashing down across his abdomen. Blood bubbled up with every single breath he took and he winced, reaching under the chair beside him and tugging the duct taped patch kit free. He scattered the contents across the floor beside him, hands shaking as he fished out gauze, tape, and a small staple gun. This wasn't a stitch it up kind of job, not when he could barely hold his bow, not when his vision was swimming from the blood loss, and certainly not when his darling little girl could wake up and find him bleeding out on the living room floor. 

Loading the cartridge, he mopped up some of the blood with his shirt, tugging it out of the way and pinching at the wound with one hand, aiming the staple gun with the other. The first one went in and he choked on a scream, only a thin whine coming out before he sat there panting, nausea swelling in his gut from the extreme pain. Holding his breath, he forced three more staples into the wound and dropped the gun to the ground, snatching up the gauze and simply holding it against his side for the moment. 

So much had gone wrong out there tonight. He'd gotten separated from Kori and Jay and then he'd ended up backed into a corner he'd never planned on being backed into. He'd left havoc in his wake, left a bloody swath of very dazed criminals behind, and he knew he was damn lucky that he hadn't met his maker at the end of that alley tonight. That didn't make the pain any more bearable. Sure, it meant he was _alive_ and he could find nothing wrong with that, but God did it hurt. 

His fingers felt numb and he knew he needed a transfusion at this point, but the little fridge he'd kept his blood in had died a week or so ago and he just hadn't had time to fill another bag. That left _one_ hope he could think of, one person who would help him without question and without hesitation. He hit his comm and let his head fall back against the wall as he breathed out, "Hood... if you're out there... need a little help."

The line crackled and Roy heard gunfire before Jason's voice came across the line, smooth as ever. "Where you at?"

It took a moment for Roy to get his mouth to work again and he knew he wasn't long for the land of consciousness. "Home. Need... transfuse... ion." His vision swam and he felt his gut rolling again. He gave a little dry retch and killed his end of the line so Jason didn't have to listen to him if he lost this battle.

"Hang on, I'm coming."

The minutes ticked by and Roy was certain he passed out and came to several times, was certain the world was spinning far too quickly in the meantime. When he finally grasped reality again, he was in his own bed, the itch of an IV in his arm and warm hands on his somehow mostly-numb side. He opened his eyes and found Jason settled on the bed beside him, suture kit open on the chair beside him, busy at work with the wound Roy had incurred. 

Their eyes met for a moment and Roy gave Jason a weak smile. "Tell me she didn't see..." His voice was rough, his throat dry, and he wondered just how long it had really been.

"She's asleep now."

"Now?" Roy's brown knit and he fought to focus on Jason completely, to watch the changes in his features.

"Had to get the matching blood type from somewhere." Jason glanced up for a moment, giving a helpless little shrug before he refocused on the task at hand. "She didn't mind. Didn't let her see you like that, only after I got you in here and hooked up. I wouldn't have at all, but she was worried about you." Jason tied off the end and neatly clipped the end of the suture thread. "She's not as sheltered as you think she is, you know."

Standing up, Jason tossed the gloves he was wearing into the trash bin, dropped the needle into the sterilizer cup he'd set on the dresser and began prepping bandages. "She listens when we talk and she knows exactly where you go and what you do. You're kidding yourself if you think that child has not prepared herself for the worst one day. When I told her what I needed, she sat down and rolled up her sleeve and held her arm out, Roy..." Jason paused, bandage in the air over Roy's skin, quietly watching him for a moment before looking back down to adhere the salve-covered bandage to his wound. "She _knows_ what this life is and she's a part of it, like it or not."

Roy turned his head away, pressing his lips into a thin line in some attempt not to let the turmoil inside overwhelm him. He'd done his best to keep her out of it and here she was, all prepared to find him half-dead on the floor every single day. It wasn't the life he wanted for his kid, it really wasn't. But it wasn't any better with her mother, perhaps even worse given the circumstances there and there was no way in hell he was giving up his daughter. And this life? Once it had you, it _always_ had you; there was no backing out, no turning away from it. Those who tried found a tired death at the end of some misguided idiot and Roy had seen far too much of that in his time to let it touch him.

Jason's fingers lightly pressed the tape down around the bandages and then reached for Roy's wrist. His fingers felt warm against the skin there and Roy did his best to breathe so he didn't skew the results with his stubborn inability to let himself cry. When he was done, Jason gently took hold of his forearm, turning them so that Roy's hand rested lightly on Jason's forearm as well, and then he felt the feather-light touch of Jason tracing one of his tattoos. He knew he'd been obsessed with it, had seen the way Jason had become distracted by it each time they'd been on a stakeout, how his gaze had lingered longer than was necessary time and again. He wondered - at times - if Jason understood the depth of it: that it wasn't some random pattern chosen off of a board, that it was very, achingly specific. 

Breathing easier, he turned his head back toward Jason, opened his eyes and watched the emotions dance on his beautiful features. He saw the swim of pain in his eyes and the creases of disbelief meandering through the lines between his brows. He found fear in the delicate sweeps of his cheekbones and he found the faintest hint of shock in the part of his lips. He watched Jason open up in front of him and then he watched it all slam closed, watched hardness take the place of pain, watched the agony turn to stone, and fear lapped at Roy's heart in those moments. He gripped Jason's forearm as hard as he could, refusing to let him leave him, knew that his own face was a betrayal of everything he felt right then.

"Jay... listen to me."

There it was, a tiny crack in the façade that was Jason Todd, always there for Roy, whenever he opened his mouth, especially whenever he sounded as desperate as he did right then.

"You _know_ , I know you do. I can see it in your face that you know exactly when I got this and that you understand what it meant... what it _means_."

Jason pulled away then, regardless of Roy's grip, his feet nearly soundless across the wooden floor as he moved to the window, leaving Roy with only his silhouette to study; his arms crossed and his stance rigid. "Why? Why would you get something like that for _me_?"

"More than B lost you when you died, Jay. We _all_ did. The whole damn city and every single person you'd ever interacted with lost you, you just couldn't see it when you came back, that's all."

"Maybe I still don't." Jason's voice was solemn, hollow and alone. He was standing at that door inside of him again that Roy had watched him come so close to time and again; the one that led to his anger and his pain and zero rationality. The one that brought him to Bruce's doorstep, gun in hand and every inch of him itching to use it. It was the demon inside of him, the one that would never completely go away, and Roy knew that, accepted it long before anyone else had. 

"You see it right here," Roy breathed out, turning his arm so that if Jason looked back, he'd see that tattoo again. "You've seen it here every single day since you've been back and you've _known_ all along. You just wanted validation, that's all."

Jason turned away from the window, leaned on the sill, his fingers curling over the ledge and Roy could feel his eyes on him, though he couldn't see it. "There's Hell trapped inside of me..."

"You think there isn't inside of all of us? What else would make us get up and do this every day?"

"I'm broken-"

"You're prefect just the way you are."

Jason tipped his head back and Roy got the impression he was fighting something more than he usually was, let the silence prevail for the time being. When he spoke again, it was fragile, the words tentative in a way Roy had never heard come from Jason before. "I'm nothing but pain, Roy... whatever this is that I'm feeling... it's-" he shook his head, "it's just me, isn't it?"

Roy held out his hand, a bemused little smile tugging at his lips. "You think I run around after your stupid ass for nothing?" Jason's head tipped and Roy knew he was watching him, knew he was itching to come and take his hand, but half afraid to. "This isn't just in your head, Jay... and even if it is, then it's in mine, too."

This time Jason's steps were audible, a lingering hint that he was more distracted than he'd possibly ever been. Jason's hand slipped into Roy's and their fingers locked. Jason's weight settled on the edge of the bed again and Roy squeezed at his hand. "I've been waiting on you to figure it out..." Gently tugging him closer, Roy reached up as much as he could with the IV attached, gently hooked one hand behind Jason's neck and brought him to where he needed him. He let his breath ghost over his lips, his eyelids lower as he freed the confession he'd been harboring in his heart for so very long to the air between them. "You an' me... this could be something."

Jason's lips pressed light against his own, such a sharp contrast to the way he was gripping his hand. He could feel Jason tremble above him and Roy swore his entire being thrummed with what was happening. When their lips parted, they stayed, breathing one another's air, foreheads touching just enough that Roy knew Jason was fighting with himself right then. 

"Just say yes... I don't need any other words." Roy brushed his fingers over Jason's cheek and then let his hand fall back to the bed, let the needle stay firmly where it needed to be. 

Jason's lips met his again and this time it was full of the aggression he'd thought would have been there, absent of the fear of the first time. _This time_ Jason tasted him more completely than anyone ever had and this time, Roy knew it wasn't going to be the last. He wouldn't ever get that single word he'd asked for, but this was answer enough. This was Heaven and he just had the doors flung wide open to accept him and _nothing_ could have felt better than that.


End file.
